


Positive / Homework

by gwinne



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15047930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwinne/pseuds/gwinne
Summary: Post-ep for "Via Negativa," originally published as two related pieces prior to the events of "Per Manum"--I still think Doggett would have been on to Scully before that episode





	Positive / Homework

PART 1: POSITIVE

He was in the midst of violating Rule #1--"if you ever go  
near Mulder's desk again, you can be assured you won't have  
ANY workspace in the DC area"--when the pieces fell into  
place. Beneath a stack of interoffice envelopes, he  
found a dogeared copy of What to Expect When You're  
Expecting and, he couldn't repress a chortle at this one,  
The Hip Mama Survival Guide. For good measure, there was  
also the latest issue of JAMA. Doggett wasn't sure  
which was more degrading--needing to filch office supplies  
from his partner in order to get his report in on time or  
realizing that, as both an FBI agent and a man who'd  
coached his ex-wife through twenty-three hours of labor, he  
hadn't figured this one out sooner. Like when the stoic  
Agent Scully turned green from doing an autopsy. Or when,  
for the third time in an hour, she took a bathroom break.  
Or when, after days of eating saltines, she accompanied him  
to the deli across the street and ate more than he did. He  
could be such an unobservant ass sometimes. No wonder his  
wife left him. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His  
short-statured partner, medical doctor, and mother-to-be,  
was back from lunch and seething.

"Just looking for an envelope. Kersh wants that report  
this afternoon and I'd hate to be like the kid in fourth  
grade who forgot to put the shiny cover on his essay." He  
knew it wouldn't work, but he smiled anyway.

Her face softened a bit. "Did you find what you're looking  
for?"

"Yeah, I did." He closed the drawer and moved back to what  
Scully deemed his "area." "You're back early. Everything  
ok?"

She sat down carefully and rested a protective hand on her  
abdomen. "Actually, everything's better than it's been in  
a long time." 

"Good to hear, Agent Scully. If you don't mind my saying  
so, you looked really worn out when you showed up in my  
bedroom the other day." He knew she was armed, and one of  
the best shots in the bureau, but he took the chance  
and continued. "But, for a woman who's been in the  
hospital three times since we started working together, I  
suppose that's not such a surprise." Gotcha, he thought. 

She bit the inside of her cheek. "Listen, Agent Doggett.  
I appreciate your concern. But my health and my private  
life are just that. Private. These topics, like Mulder's  
desk, are off-limits until I say otherwise. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

* * *

She was on the phone when he got back from the meeting with  
Kersh. While the Deputy Director had yammered on about how  
ridiculous his findings were and griped about a few missing  
commas on page five, Doggett compiled a mental list of  
clues to his partner's condition. Once he started  
reviewing the past weeks, these clues, what he liked to  
think of as pregnancy moments, came into striking relief.  
He realized he was walking into another one as she stopped  
twirling the phone cord and started rubbing her stomach  
like a well-loved cat. 

"Yeah, Frohike, everything's fine." Her belly seemed  
to swell with each circle of her hand. He couldn't stop  
thinking about what would happen if she went into labor  
while they were on a case. "Any new leads?" For a  
moment, he imagined spooning up behind her and cupping the  
soft, hidden curve; over ten years ago, John Doggett  
discovered that there was nothing sexier, or more  
comforting, than going to bed with a pregnant woman. Last  
night he had dreamed of killing her, and here she was,  
brimming with life. He might need to append his report. 

He opened a new word processing document and pretended to  
work. She was still talking to that smarmy friend of  
Mulder's. "Thank Byers for the books. It'd be nice if one  
of them had a chapter on alien bounty hunters or god-  
fearing slugs, though. I don't exactly fit their target  
audience." She laughed and fingered the buttons on her  
shirt. "Yeah, I'm going shopping with Mom this weekend."  
Had he ever heard her laugh before? He bet Mulder  
heard her laugh a lot. Was he jealous? This was getting  
ridiculous. "OK, see you then."

She hung up the phone and he pounced. "Byers, he's the  
well-groomed one with the beard?"

"Yeah."

"I suppose they gave you the scoop on our meeting the other  
day?"

"Yes, they did." She chuckled and pulled on her jacket.  
"They said that you'll do."

"I'll do?"

"Loosely translated, it means you're not Mulder, but thank  
you for looking out for me."

"Any time, Agent Scully."

She fingered Mulder's nameplate, which seemed to appear and  
disappear on weekly basis, and made a display of pulling  
the baby books from the drawer and putting them in her  
briefcase. Like her white shirt, it looked ready to  
split at the seams. She spoke slowly, with characteristic  
reserve. "There's a case I'd like to get your opinion on.  
But I think we could both stand to get out of the basement.  
How about I cook some dinner and fill you in?  
Unless you've got somewhere else to be."

"Sounds good." He paused a moment, baiting her, playing  
dog to her cat. "You want me to bring anything? Dessert?  
Wine?"

"I don't think wine's such a great idea. Just bring  
yourself and your thinking cap."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm positive."

 

PART II. HOMEWORK

 

Pulling Mulder's favorite black sweater over her head, she wondered  
exactly what prompted her decision to invite Doggett over for dinner.  
He'd saved her life and it was time to thank him properly? He was a  
nice enough man and she was desperate for company beyond her  
increasingly over-protective mother, her over-anxious boss, and three  
over-interested paranoiacs? She'd exhausted the last of her fat  
clothes that morning and knew it was time to confess? In actuality,  
she recognized, it was all of the above.

Scully stood sideways in front of the full-length mirror, noting the  
changes in her silhouette. Suddenly, in the seventeenth week of her  
pregnancy, it was hard not to notice. Despite the morning sickness  
and the incessant need to pee, she'd relished the first trimester,  
carrying around a secret the size of a walnut. But as the baby grew  
within her, so did the repercussions of not telling Doggett. If her  
child's welfare depended on secrecy, it might also come to depend on  
Doggett's knowledge. When he showed up in her hospital room after  
the bounty hunter attacked her, she knew she should tell him. When he  
cut the slug from her spine and carried her, half-conscious, to the  
ambulance, she knew she should tell him. And when she heard him in  
the doorway during her last hospitalization, she kept her eyes shut  
and pretended to sleep, knowing that the proverbial jig was up. 

He was nice and legitimately concerned and their partnership depended  
on honesty, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him about the baby  
before she'd had an opportunity to tell Mulder. So she practiced the  
necessary betrayal in small increments, putting Mulder's nameplate in  
the desk drawer for a day or two, swapping small stories with Doggett  
on stakeouts, inviting him over for dinner under the pretext of a  
case.

Nobody, she said to Mulder, wherever he was, will ever take your  
place. You're in my heart and in my mind and in my womb. She  
smoothed the sweater over her belly and went into the kitchen.

She was slicing tomatoes for the salad when Doggett knocked on the  
door.

"Hi," she said, "come on in."

"Dessert," Doggett said, handing her a paper bag.

"Mmmm," Scully said. "How did you know?" She smiled at the pint of  
Ben and Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk and the baby fluttered in  
agreement. 

He shrugged his shoulders. "Just a hunch."

They stood in the doorway like junior high kids at their first dance.  
"Nice place."

"Thanks. Let me take your coat." She hung up his coat in the  
closet, between her well-worn trench and Mulder's leather jacket.  
He'd left it the last night he spent at her apartment, the last night  
they made love. She was certain she could still smell his aftershave  
on the collar. "Have a seat, Agent Doggett. Dinner should be ready  
soon. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Juice? Beer?"

"Beer would be great, thanks."

When she went into the kitchen Doggett conducted a quick  
investigation into Scully's home. He was surprised at the muted,  
feminine colors and the homey charm of the rooms. Still, even the  
soft light of an early December evening couldn't hide the layer of  
dust that settled on the coffee table and the armoire that overlooked  
the room. He glanced at the crooked stack of paper threatening to  
topple off the table--case files with their tell-tale white and red  
covers, lists of MUFON members and reports of UFO sightings since  
September, photocopied articles from the Journal of Obstetrics on the  
pregnancies of cancer survivors. 

Doggett thought back to the first few months of his wife's  
pregnancy--days she was so nauseous she couldn't get out of bed, a  
late night trip to the emergency room when she started spotting--and  
wondered how Scully even managed to make it into the office, much  
less travel cross-country and protect them both from becoming pray of  
the human bat. He'd only seen her breakdown once, sobbing in his  
arms after being flung into the wall by a man she insisted was an  
alien. She'd lost the last lead on her partner that day, and she  
could have lost her child. Doggett swallowed hard.

"Here," Scully said, handing him a glass and a can of Guinness.  
"I'll let you pour it yourself."

"Thanks. This research for a case?" He gestured with his head  
toward the stack of articles.

"Something like that, yeah." She lowered herself into the armchair,  
not ready to sit next to Doggett the way she had so many times with  
Mulder, when their hands would meet and then their mouths. Sometimes  
they would make it to her bedroom and sometimes they made love on the  
couch, the fire warming her backside as she moved, Mulder's hands on  
her breasts.

"You wanna tell me what this is about?"

"Tell you what what is about?"

"This. You inviting me over for dinner. What Mulder's fish tank is  
doing in the corner over there. Why you're reading about pregnancy  
complications."

"I invited you over for dinner so we could talk about work. As for  
the rest, we had an agreement, Agent Doggett. Please respect it.  
And me. You're certainly not going to earn my trust, or find the  
answers you want, if you turn me into the subject of an  
investigation." Scully stood up and rubbed a spot at her waist.  
"The lasagna is ready--let's eat."

* * *

"You're a good cook," Doggett said as worked on his third helping.

"You sound surprised." Scully raised an eyebrow and speared a bite  
of lettuce with her fork.

"Well, most women, most people, as busy as you are don't have a lot  
of time or inclination to master the culinary arts."

"You can thank my mother. She always said that no one could consider  
themselves truly independent unless they could cook, do their own  
laundry, and change the oil in their car."

"Sounds like a wise woman."

"Yes, she is."

* * *

"Tell me about Mulder." They were back in Scully's living room,  
drinking decaf and watching the fire blaze. "If I'm going to help  
you find him, I need to know."

Scully ran her finger along the rim of her mug and let out a slow,  
deep breath. "He is the most passionate man I have ever met. He is  
brilliant and paranoid and charming and tender. He is awkward and  
funny and compassionate. But I don't suppose that's what you really  
wanted to know."

"Actually, Agent Scully, that tells me a lot. But why don't you fill  
me in on what you and those three stooges have been up to. Give me  
the information I need to help bring him home."

"OK." Scully rifled through some papers on the coffee table. "The  
guys have been coordinating UFO sightings, missing persons reports,  
and John Does who turn up in various hospitals. Skinner and I went  
back to Bellefleur and turned up nothing. We can't seem to locate  
any of Mulder's informants who might know anything. Basically,"  
Scully let out another deep breath, "we've got no leads to go on. We  
might never." She set her mug down on the table. "Excuse me." 

Doggett watched his partner pull herself up, tuck a strand of hair  
behind her ear, and walk back to what he assumed was her bedroom.  
After five minutes, he wondered what she was doing. After ten  
minutes, he started to worry. "Agent Scully?" He called at the edge  
of her dark bedroom. "Everything ok?"

"I'll be right out." Her voice cracked.

Through the open bathroom door, he saw her sitting with her back  
against the tub, face in her hands. He sat down next to her, and she  
looked up at the sound of his knees popping. There was tenderness  
and concern in his eyes, the kind a husband would give his pregnant  
wife. It was the look that, since she'd learned of the baby in early  
autumn, she'd imagined Mulder giving to her. Doggett pulled Scully  
into his arms and she started to cry in earnest. He rocked her until  
her breath hitched and she pulled away.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes. "I didn't mean to ruin your  
shirt." She forced a small laugh.

"Everyone needs a good cry now and then. When my wife was pregnant,  
she'd burst into tears from watching a commercial for kitten chow." 

As he spoke, Scully realized that he was graciously giving her an  
out. He knew about the baby, and she knew about him knowing, and he  
knew that she was on to him, and that meant she didn't need to say  
anything at all. "Can I ask you a personal question, Agent Doggett?"

"Sure thing."

"Did your wife crave chocolate ice cream when she was pregnant?"


End file.
